Crack Brownies
by Eyes-of-Crimson
Summary: //One-shot//SteinSpirit// He was trying to do something nice for his weapon, but it didn't quite work out the way he had planned it. Oh well, there were always alternatives.


**A/N:** First Soul Eater fic, yay! This is for the 1000 themes challenge I'm doing, so, yeah XD; Enjoy

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Soul Eater nor its characters.

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Spirit's nose wrinkled as an unpleasant odor made itself apparent in the air. Admittedly, it smelt slightly good, as if the stench was overpowering the good smell of whatever it was supposed to belong to. It was bearable, but highly uncomfortable.

He put his magazine down and stood up quickly, heading directly over to Stein's lab. It had to be Stein…that nutcase Junior was always coming up with some new concoction or experimental mixture for no particular reason. The boy was insane. But that's why Spirit was here; to make sure he didn't go completely off his rocker—or rolling chair, rather.

Reaching Stein's lab, he was surprised to not see him hunched over a table messing with test tubes and green chemicals. In fact, Stein wasn't in there at all. Spirit was confused; where could his meister have gone…?

"Spirit! Kitchen!"

Spirit blinked. The…kitchen? _Why_ the _kitchen_? He didn't ask questions quite yet, but made his way to where Stein had relocated himself and his jaw dropped to see his comrade standing there holding a metal pan with a fresh batch of brownies in it.

"So that's where the smell's coming from…" he stated in disgust, pinching his nose. Stein blinked at him, finding no point in faking a pout. He knew the brownies smelt horrid, there was no purpose in pretending as if he had really tried to make them perfect.

"Yeah. Eat one." he responded shortly, dropping the pan onto the counter. Spirit immediately flipped out and jumped right back to the door.

"No way!! You probably laced them with…with…with _crack_ or something!! I'm NOT eating any of YOUR brownies!!" he shouted, pointing his finger at him accusingly.

Stein looked at him, the light reflecting off his glasses eerily, and his expression consisting of a simple frown. He turned his screw a few times. "I did nothing of the sort. Now get over here and eat one."

It was a command that Spirit was not inclined to obey. "No."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, "why not"?! _You_ made them!! That should be reason enough, you psychopath!!"

"Enlighten me. What do you think would be the result from you eating these putrid-smelling brownies?"

"Crack brownies!" Spirit corrected. "And they'll probably make me somehow more easy to dissect, knowing you and your freakish tendencies!!"

Stein stared at him for a moment. "…That's not a bad idea. Thank you, Spirit" he mused and turned to scribble down the idea on the pad of sticky notes that were conveniently next to him, turning the screw in his head as he wrote. Spirit's jaw dropped. He just paved the way to his own demise…again.

"Wh-wh-what…? STEIN!!"

Stein looked up at him, blinking. "Yes?"

Spirit pulled at his red hair, frustrated beyond tolerable reason with his meister. "DON'T ACT SO INNOCENT!!"

"Innocent? I'm hardly anything of the sort."

"I KNOW THAT."

"So why are you accusing me of acting as such?"

"BECAUSE YOU—NEVERMIND!! Screw you and your crack brownies!!" Spirit shouted, on the verge of flailing and becoming overall pathetic. He stormed out of the kitchen, grumbling to himself.

Stein blinked, tempted to run after him. After all, he _had _made these specifically for Spirit…they were to celebrate him getting his fifth perfect score in a row. It had been Mary's idea to make him brownies, so he thought that Spirit would take to them immediately…but apparently the smell and the fact that Stein could—or, rather, _would_—cook turned him away from them instead.

"Oh well. He'll eat them when he realizes that any other food will make him nauseous by the time the night's over." Stein murmured to himself, a sadistic grin curling on his face. Ah, he hadn't messed with Spirit's organs in a long time switching around toes and fingers had become too much of a routine for him.


End file.
